


Goals

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cat/Human Hybrids, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Vignette, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 23:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18905212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto discovers a new career path.





	Goals

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Prompto grabs a power-up at the very last second, and it saves him from imminent destruction. Instead of Noctis’ missile blowing him up into a million little pieces, his new red-energy shield deflects it right back, and Noctis’ shiny black car goes careening off the bridge. It busts through the guardrail like a drill punching through paper. Noctis actually _hisses_ , his tail lashing against Prompto’s thigh and his black ears flattening back against his head. Prompto snickers in victory anyway, sliding triumphantly over the finish line.

“ _Damn_ ,” Noctis swears, before immediately flicking past the rankings. He clicks onto the next race, and Prompto hits the confirmation. Their cars are set back at the start, Prompto’s now in the lead position, Noctis stuck behind three NPCs. He gives Prompto the side-eye, the sort of look a lion or a jaguar might give a person before tearing them limb from limb. When Noctis wants to, he can produce the vicious claws and brutal fangs that could tear an MT’s head clean off, but they’re close enough friends now that Prompto doesn’t feel threatened. He knows Noctis wouldn’t _actually_ use him as a scratching post over a video game. At the absolute worst, Noctis might pout and make Prompto play that one ugly character with the crazy mustache and bad stats that nobody ever wants.

The countdown reaches zero, and the two of them both slam the accelerator. Prompto’s controller vibrates as he zooms into first place, only to run right over a spike trap and abruptly explode. Noctis mercilessly speeds past the flaming husk of Prompto’s remains.

While Prompto’s car goes through the painfully long reload animation, the door to Noctis’ apartment opens. Noctis doesn’t even look over, but Prompto does, stealing a glance at the tall man walking in with an armful of groceries. Prompto’s eyes return to the screen as control of his car is returned to him, but he still greets, “Hey, Iggy.”

“Prompto,” Ignis smoothly answers. Prompto can hear the grocery bags being set down on the counter and feels a twinge of guilt over not offering to help with them. Noctis doesn’t offer either. Prompto would, but he _really_ wants to win—if he does, then Noctis has to share his next treat with Prompto. He _says_ they’re just made of fish and catnip, something only a feline—only those with royal blood—would like, but the way his toes curl and his throat purrs has Prompto believing otherwise. He wants to taste one for himself.

When Ignis talks, it’s in that level tone of voice that says Noctis won’t be getting any treats any time soon. “I see the applications I left are untouched. I thought I made it quite clear you needed to go through them, Noct.”

Without bothering to look over, Noctis grunts, “Later.”

Ignis sighs. “You’re only hurting yourself with this procrastination. If you don’t hire someone yourself, the Crown will appoint a royal petter for you. That’s quite a personal thing, Noct—don’t you want to make that decision yourself?”

“I’ll get to it when I can, geez.”

Prompto’s gone right over a cliff again, but he doesn’t even care. His brain short-circuited at the phrase ‘ _royal petter_.’ His attention swivels over towards the kitchenette, where Ignis is diligently putting vegetables away in the refrigerator’s crisper.

“Royal petter? That’s a _job_?”

“Of course,” Ignis casually replies, as though it’s the most normal thing in the world and how could Prompto possibly not know that. “You know better than anyone that his highness shares the same feline traits typical of the Caelum line. As such, he has unique needs.”

“Like... someone to just... _pet_ him?”

“That is the basic job description, yes.” Ignis pauses to look over the island, frowning at Noctis, who’s taking advantage of Prompto’s distraction. “The current occupant of the job is retiring next month, but I _am_ starting to wonder if I should recommend discontinuing the service entirely. Perhaps it’s time we stop spoiling Noctis...”

Noctis mutters darkly, “You wouldn’t dare—”

“I’ll do it!”

Prompto can feel his cheeks heating but doesn’t take his outburst back. Ignis lifts a brow. Noctis just snorts. 

“I’m serious... I could...”

Unsure how to explain, he turns to just _show_ it, because how hard could it be, when he and Noctis cuddle all the time anyway. Maybe it’s not the same as petting, but it’s close enough, and he wishes someone had told him earlier he could get paid to pat the cutest cat he knows. 

He lifts a hand to Noctis’ head, but Noctis jerks away. He pauses the game mid-dodge and has to duck when Prompto chases him, shuffling over. Noctis’ tail bristles as he splutters, “No way—you’re not trained!”

“I can figure it out!” Prompto promises, trying again, only for Noctis to roll off the couch and out of the way.

“You won’t do it right!”

“Sure I will! I’ve taken care of a dog before!”

Now looking horribly offended, Noctis splutters, “I’m not a dog!”

But he leans closer to insist that point, and that puts him within range—Prompto runs a hand down the back of his head, smoothing between his two ears, fingers curling in to ruffle his dark hair and lightly scratch the back of his neck. Noctis goes stock still, making it easier for Prompto to join him on the floor and diligently scratch behind his ear. 

Noctis’ lashes flutter down. He leans into Prompto’s touch. Prompto tries rubbing Noctis’ shoulders, and Noctis actually starts _purring_.

He melts into Prompto, crawling forward to curl up in Prompto’s lap, as Prompto happily lavishes him with attention. Pride swells up inside him, not over proving Noctis wrong, but over proving himself to Noctis, and over making Noctis feel good. 

Prompto knows that must be rare, because Ignis looks genuinely surprised. But then that passes, and he says, “I’ll get you one of the blank applications to fill out.”

Prompto chirps, “Great!”

And Noctis purrs, “Mmm, no... you’re hired.”


End file.
